#rowarsen

[exurovolo]

“Hold my rum, I’m gona slav squat on this manabomb.”

- Rowarsen, professional senile moron

( Riz Ahmed used as reference! )

[exurovolo]

Nobody Gets Left Behind

( oh excuse me sorry i’m just *pukes tragic backstory all over the floor* )

“Please, love! Look at me!”

Rowarsen cracked his eyes open and stared. Fire. Everything was on fire. Coiling trees which once bore golden, shimmering leaves, now glowed with the sickly green flames that consumed everything as far as the eye could see. In the sky, black and green vessels loomed, leaving their shadows where the felfire wasn’t lighting up. The shrieks that he had since drowned out returned in one invasive wave, sending shocks of nausea and shivers throughout his form. People rushed past him, giving him little more than a glance; preoccupied with saving themselves more so than they cared to bother with the two who stood off before each other, unmoving.

He looked up at his beloved. Tears were streaming down her ash-caked face and she had her teeth bared in a despaired cry. Neither of them said anything. His cheeks were wet. His face was blank. He’d made his decision a long time ago.

His beloved knew this, realised this long before the invasion had occurred. But she refused to accept it. She choked on a frustrated sob and marched up to him, clasping his shoulders and digging her fingertips into the fabric that so thinly protected him from damage. “I know you think you can’t live without her, but your family needs you! I need you! Please, please, please don’t do this to us, I can’t watch you be left behind!” Another sob erupted from her throat as she rested her forehead against his.

For a moment, he allowed himself to lean into the touch, hands dragging through the hot air to grip her elbows gently. “I…” But he didn’t let the affection last. “I can’t. I need to find her. If I--”

From behind him, a booming voice cried out. “You are coming with us, child! Your sister is gone, don’t take another of my children away from me!”

A large woman, with deep blue skin and flowing violet hair, stormed towards Rowarsen and hefted him up in her burly arms. Before he could so much as react to the sudden outburst, Row was being carried to one of the evacuation vessels. A choked scream broke loose from his chest, and he writhed in his mother’s grasp. “Let go! LET GO! I’VE MADE MY CHOICE, LET ME GO!!”

His frail, sickly form was nothing compared to his mother’s strength. He continued to struggle in vain, if only to vent out the rage inside of him that only proved to be burning hotter and hotter the closer they reached the crystalline ship’s entrance beacon. His gaze whipped to his beloved, who only followed in silence as she cried. Not looking his way. “You! YOU! Everything I’ve told you, everything you know and you’re still-- LET ME GO!!”

Rearing his upper half forward, he slammed his head back into his mother’s jaw. Their horns interlocked and forced his neck to crane further back with his mother’s recoil as she barked out in pain. But she only held him tighter, closer, making no effort to unhook her larger horn from his.

Even with his neck craned so far back, Rowarsen could see the entrance beacon, becoming more and more clear as they drew near. His father, old but strong looking, was waiting just outside its edge, watching the scene with a distant grimace. His shoulders sagged and he bowed his head in a resigned sigh as Row was dragged up to the beacon. Passing by his father, he bared his teeth with a furious sob. “I hate you all,” he spat. “I hate you all. Don’t put me on that ship. Don’t put me on th--”

The golden light of the beacon washed over him and his mother, and in the blink of an eye, they were teleported to the main chambre of the ship’s interior.

Amidst the wails and cries of the other refugees that had already gathered inside, Rowarsen’s enraged howls were no stranger to their ears. Some still shot glances to the sickly, screaming young man, not out of judgement but empathy. They all were loathe to leave behind their beloved, beautiful home. And he wasn’t the only one screaming in anger.

His mother carried him out of the entrance circle, and turned around to watch and wait for his father and his partner, Genlyrie. The two appeared side by side, Row’s father having looped an arm around her trembling shoulders soothingly. They stepped out of the circle and his father exchanged pained glances with his mother, then looked to him.

The only look he could give in return was murderous. It was the only kind he wanted to give any one, everyone in the chambre. The exchange lasted all but a second, before he returned to his struggling, curses and pleas still flying from his lips in hateful snaps and yelling.

By the time no more passengers could be borne and the beacon shut off, all his energy was spent, cheeks long since dried. Only then did his mother finally set him down, finding a comfortable place relatively secluded from the general crowd where he could curl up and rest.

Once he was sat down, she knelt before him and eyed him with insurmountable love and sadness, brushing loose curls of blue-black hair from his tiny crest and brow. Her jawline was darkened with bruises from the headbutt. “My dear, beautiful boy,” she said softly, brows creasing upwards as tears pinpricked her eyes once more. “I am so sorry. You do not deserve this pain… I wish I could take it from you.”

Rowarsen said nothing.

She watched him, regaining herself before continuing, “Rhevarsen is beyond hope… you know that, don’t you?”

He said nothing.

Taking in a shaky breath, she tucked his head down to check the back of his head and horns for injuries. “There is nothing any of us can do for her, now. She made her decision… I hope that someday, you’ll understand why I didn’t let you make yours.”

Nothing.

She tipped his head back upright gently, caressing his cheek. Reluctantly, she leaned forward to kiss his crest, then pushed herself to her hooves and returned to her husband’s side.

Genlyrie, Row’s partner, slowly made her way over to sit beside him. “Row, I…” She reaches to tuck a thick lock of his hair behind his head.

“Don’t touch me,” he mumbled, burying his face into his arms folded over his knees. “Leave me be.”

He didn’t look up when he heard Gen’s shuddered breath, nor did he when she fled back to his parents with gentle sobs. He didn’t look anyone in the eye for the entirety they were all trapped in that ship, and wouldn’t when they had found a new home. Back in that evacuation vessel, in that corner where he eventually fell asleep, Rowarsen made a promise to himself.

Twenty millennia later, and he had kept that promise still.

[exurovolo]

LFC: Rowarsen

the basics –––

NAME: Rowarsen

AGE: ~27,000 years old

BIRTHDAY: March 24

RACE: Draenei

GENDER: Trans male

SEXUALITY: Pan

MARITAL STATUS: Nah.

RELATIONSHIP STATUS: Single, not looking

physical appearance –––

HAIR: Blue-black

EYES: Arcane blue/purple

HEIGHT: 8′1″

BUILD: Thin, some muscles

DISTINGUISHING MARKS: Missing tendrils, curved horns and no crest, heavily scarred from the neck down, beat up hooves.

COMMON ACCESSORIES: Black leather jacket with blue trim, a pair of modified shortswords over his shoulder.

personal –––

PROFESSION:  Pilot, engineer, swordsman

HOBBIES: Salvaging, sabotage, building space vessels, other general technological tomfoolery

LANGUAGES: Common, Draenei, Eredun

RESIDENCE: Nunya’s.

BIRTHPLACE: Argus

RELIGION: Hate-the-Everything

PATRON DEITY: Caffeine

FEARS: Getting attached to people and subsequently losing them, running into his sister, crowd-involved conflicts, being dragged into said conflict, certain social scenes with high expectations (or perceived as high)

relationships ––– 

SPOUSE: No

Children: ... Nope (one daughter, Legion)

PARENTS: Kuhriv (mother, ???), Dreshuraff (father)

SIBLINGS: Rhevarsen (sister, Legion)

OTHER RELATIVES: ???

ACQUAINTANCES/FRIENDS: Genlyrie (former romantic interest, alive)

PETS: None

traits ––– 

extroverted / introverted / in between.

disorganized / organized / in between.

close minded / open-minded / in between.

calm / anxious / in between.

disagreeable / agreeable / in between.

cautious / reckless / in between.

patient / impatient / in between.

outspoken / reserved / in between.

leader / follower / in between.

empathetic / unemphatic / in between.

optimistic / pessimistic / in between.

traditional / modern / in between.

hard-working / lazy / in between.

cultured / un-cultured / in between.

loyal / disloyal / unknown / in between.

faithful / unfaithful / unknown / in between.

additional information ––– 

SMOKING HABIT: never / sometimes / frequently / to excess.

DRUGS: never / sometimes / frequently / to excess.

ALCOHOL: never / sometimes / frequently / to excess.

possible hooks –––

Mechanics : Rowarsen is a salvager / engineer who collects parts, builds and repairs machinery and vehicles, and offers both generic products as well as customised.

Piloting : He is a semi-former pilot, best with vehicles such as copters, sky golems, and smaller draenic vessels.

Sleight of Hand : Has a penchant for pilfering small devices and knicknacks here and there.

Homeworld : Draenei may recognise him from as far back as before Argus’ downfall. His personality is generally the same. Generally.

Merc Werc : Row is a decent swordsman and occasionally takes up mercenary work when his hobby doesn’t financially cut it.

what I’m looking for –––

I’m open to a lot of options; friends, rivals, outright enemies, you name it. I’m not too much on the lookout for a romantic interest for him, but if it happens through RP that’s fine by me. I’m cool with casual to majorly intense interactions, friendly to conflict. So long as we talk things through, I’m fine with most anything!

oocly, I am –––

Shy but friendly! I love making friends and talking about storylines / characters. RP has been important to me for a long-ass time and I understand it’s meant to make people happy, not to be judged and nitpicked over. I can be a little awkward and misunderstand things due to being autistic, but I encourage any mistakes I make to be pointed out so I can right them. I don’t like OOC conflict but IC turmoil fuels me just as much as friendly interactions. As a disclaimer, Row is not my main so I won’t always be on regularly.

[exurovolo]

Watch out, he’ll drink all your coffee then climb a tree.

[exurovolo]

Shittiest pilot in the galaxy, coming to an Azeroth near you!